Drifted Sparks Reimagining Anthology
by Silver Spider
Summary: A collection of short and au stories related to my DSR series.
1. Intro

**Drifted Sparks Reimagining Anthology**

**By: Silver Spider**

Hello all!

First of all, I'd like to one again thank everyone who's read and reviewed the "Drifted Sparks Reimagining" story. Your reviews have really been making my days. As promised, I am working on the second part which will be titled "Sparks of Salvation". That's coming later this month, after my finals.

In the meantime, I decided to post some of the short side/au fics that go along with this series. They range in characters, genres, even ratings. Some are closely connected to the series, while others are very au. It's all up to interpretation. Some of them might also have small spoilers for later, so beware of that.

I think that's all. If any of these sound a bit off, keep in mind that some of them are pretty old. They've been in my LJ for a while. Well, enjoy!


	2. Redefining Rols

**Title:** Redefining Roles

**Author:** Silver Spider

**Genre:** Humor/Family

**Characters:** Cheetor, Blackarachnia

**Warning:** G, nothing bad here.

**Summary:** Assimilating into humanity means more than just looking human.

**Redefining Roles**

**By: Silver Spider**

Blackarachnia's chin was propped up on the heel of her hand while the index finger finger of the other tapped against the keyboard. Not with enough pressure to actually press the button, but just to give her something to do while she stared at the screen.

"I'm going to start locking that door, Cheetor."

She didn't bother to turn her head, but she knew that he was grinning.

"How'd you know?"

"Spider sense. And you're pretty loud for a feline."

Cheetor simply shrugged and plopped down on the two-seater couch that was near her work desk in case any one dropped by.

"I'm bored."

She would have told him to go find something useful to do and stop bothering her if she wasn't just as bored herself. This is what happened when one finally knew all these was about the bad guys and was waiting for the various human governments to finish deciding whether or not they wanted to invest in saving the world.

"What do you want me to do about it?" she asked.

"Hang out with me."

There were times in the recent past that Blackarachnia almost forgot how childish he could be, and then he used that pleading tone and she remembered. It also had the guaranteed effect of making her want to do the exact opposite of what he was asking.

"I'm busy."

"It's September 18th," he said as if it was supposed to fix everything and anything else. Blackarachnia merely raised an eyebrow.

"Is it a holiday I don't know about?"

"It's... never mind," he looked more sullen but then his previous determination returned. "The Air Force generals are showing Silverbolt and Nightscream some shiny new jet prototype, and I don't know where everyone else is, so you're my only relief from boredom. Come on, you're not doing anything. Let's go see a pointless action movie. The new Mummy sequel or something."

Blackarachnia suppressed a snort and regarded him with a look one might give a petulant child when deciding if he should be indulged with the ice cream he's asking for. Boredom finally won out.

"I'll be out in in ten," she got up and pressed the print button on her laptop before closing the screen. "Be ready, or I'm leaving without you."

* * * * * * * * * *

Cheetor liked humans and what he'd seen of their culture thus far. Of course, he missed Cybertron, but he'd also accepted that the old saying was also true; you can't go home again. From the moment the Axalon crashed on prehistoric Earth, all he ever wanted was to get back to the Cybertron he remembered, and from the moment he set foot on the cold desolate planet ravaged by Megatron's virus, he knew that would never happen.

Maybe that's why he fought as hard as he did. Optimus was concerned about Earth's inhabitance, but his main focus was preventing the aliens from getting to Cybertron. Primitive and quarrelsome as they were, Cheetor liked humans, liked Earth, and didn't want it to become another wasteland. Besides, if Earth was gone, where would he get these amazing Philly cheese steaks?

He might have tried Philadelphia first, but as it happened, Cheetor was of the opinion that the best Philly cheese steaks came from a small bar and grill with outside seating just off of Lafayette Park in Washington D.C.. It was just past six o'clock, and they'd just caught the showing of the movie at three. The Asian mummy flick turned out to be not too bad except for the part about the theater crawling with small children. Blackarachnia had made a face and rolled her eyes, but he watched the blond boy in the pointy cart board party hat for a little while before returning his attention the the movie.

At the moment though, he wasn't terribly fond of the human waiter who was asking to see his ID before he'd hand over the bottle of Sam Addams. Cheetor rolled his eyes.

"I'm over 21," he said pointedly, holding out the identification card between his middle and forefinger.

The man in the grease apron, who looked like he was ready to declare the ID a fake before he even looked at it, didn't get a chance to say anything, before Blackarachnia chimed in.

"Actually, he's 23."

The waiter stared at her in a way that said he either couldn't believe her or he was looking at her breasts again. Either way, she put down her own bottle of bear and fixed him with a look Cheetor knew all too well. He almost felt sorry for the human.

"My brother's 23," she said in a tone one would use to speak to a small child. "It's his birthday. We're out calibrating."

The waiter continued to stare then blinked and handed Cheetor back his ID without having looked at it.

"Drinks are on the house tonight, folks," he said, before placing the bottle in front of him and rushing back inside. Cheetor grinned, but not because he'd gotten the bear.

"You remembered."

"How could you think I'd forget?" Blackarachnia shook her head and took a swing of her drink. "I made those IDs."

"I know, I know," Cheetor unscrewed his own bottle. "It's just that these things are not a big deal on Cybertron, and I thought everyone would think it's silly to indulge in some human tradition for a date that's made up anyway."

"I thought you said you were bored," she reminded him. "It's as good of an excuse to go out as any. Anyway, I got you something."

She reached into her black bag under the table, pulled out a rectangular box, and handed it to him across the table. Cheetor received it graciously and was about to say that she didn't have to, when he saw the wrapping paper.

"Kittens?" he looked at her indignantly. "Little... fuzzy ones?"

"They were all out of the other kind," she informed him. "That and animal prints tend to go on something entirely different around here. Just open it."

He tore away the paper and immediately disposed of it in the nearest trash can before returning to his seat to open the present. Inside the box was a plane tan colored book that he quickly discovered was not a book at all but in fact a photo album. Cheetor frowned, flipping through the various photos. He didn't understand until he got to one a few pages from the start. It was a photo of two children. The golden curly haired boy about five years old was wearing a huge smile that made his nose crinkle and freckles stand out while next to him a girl of about ten or eleven with long black hair made a funny face at him. Both children had green eyes.

"It's us," he looked up at his sister from the album, knowing full well that it couldn't have been. Cheetor took out the photo and flipped it over, reading "Brianna and Christopher, Sept. '90" on the back. "All these pictures. How did you do this?"

"Age progression technology," she smiled, "only in reverse. Humans use this in searches of missing children, so I did, too. You sometimes get this look, like you miss having little responsibilities, and we all know you like this human thing, so I thought it might amuse you."

"I love it!" he beamed.


	3. Complex

**Title:** Complex

**Author:** Silver Spider

**Genre:** Angst/Triple Drabble (300 words)

**Characters:** Cheetor

**Warning:** Probably PG (even with a bad word or two), though you might squick anyway.

**Summary:** Cheetor has a slight problem with the boundaries humans put on certain relationships.

**Complex**

**By: Silver Spider**

I don't understand humans and their backward relationships.

Tarantulas... he knew it. His smirks and off hand remarks about "sister complex" made no sense to me, so I asked Rattrap. He just gave me this tired look and muttered "go, wikipedia it, kiddo." Hadn't called me that in a while and combined with his surprising lack of any other commentary, it actually made me look it up myself. Needless to say I learned more than I ever wanted to know.

Still don't understand everything, but I'm pretty sure Blackarachnia does. Did when she made those damn IDs. Typo, my exhaust port. Am I really supposed to believe that she'd ever be that careless? Ten to one, she did this whole brother-sister thing on purpose. Because she knew how the humans would see it, and Primus forbid we make the the delicate humans uncomfortable. She's clever that way.

And devious.

And a total bitch.

The hottest, smartest bitch to ever grace Earth or Cybertron.

Smart in most respects, that is, and this is where I allow myself a little smugness. She didn't do it for me. If it had been only me, she would have just continued to ignore things the way she always had in the Beast Wars. Easy to brush off a kid with a silly crush. Not so easy when said _former_ kid has been the shoulder she'd leaned – never cried, let's not go _that_ far - on for most of the Technorganic War.

See? It's not all in my head. Blackarachnia always has an ulterior motive. None of this was for me, because I didn't even know what boundaries that slag came with. Blackarachnia did it for Blackarachnia; a constant reminder that I should never be anything more than a kid to her.


	4. Boy Wonder

**Title:** Boy Wonder

**Author:** Silver Spider

**Genre:** Humor/General

**Characters:** Nightscream, Silverbolt, Blackarachnia

**Warning:** Probably G ^^;, minor spoilers for later chapters though.

**Summary:** Comic books are the source of all knowledge. Takes place between chapters 19 and 20

**Boy Wonder**

**By: Silver Spider**

Of the things Nightscream loved most about Earth and humans, comic books were at the top of a very short list. And after New York where he'd seen "The Dark Knight", Batman shot up to the top of his favorite super hero list. He sneaked one of Blackarachnia's laptops – well, he would have liked to think he sneaked it because 'begged for' didn't sound at all dignified – and downloaded as many Batman comics as she would give him hard drive space. He read them all the way through the drive back to Washington and then all through the flight to Hoover Dam when it was discovered that they were to rendezvous there.

When his eyes got tired about an hour before landing, he reluctantly closed the laptop. The images on the pages were running through his mind at the speed of light. If he didn't tell someone about the amazing stories he'd just read, the boy was sure he'd burst. Blackarachnia was busy with work, but Silverbolt was only reading some thick boring-looking book. He wandered over to the man and plopped down in a chair next to him. He didn't say anything, just silently stared at the book in Silverbolt's hands as if it was the bane of his existence. The fuzzor pretended not to notice for a few minutes, at which point Nightscream began to swivel in the chair, indirectly demanding attention. The corner of Silverbolt's lip twitched up in a smile, and he closed his book, setting it aside.

"Alright, son," he turned his chair to face him. "I am listening."

Grinning and nearly bouncing in his chair, Nightscream launched into a full account of the Batman saga, pausing only to take a breath or backtrack when he thought he missed a vital piece of the story. He wasn't sure if Silverbolt was really interested, but he looked like he was at least pretending to listen, and that was more that people usually did for him, so Nightscream was grateful. He coughed a little, his throat dry from talking so much, and Silverbolt reached over to one of the compartments and handed him a bottle of water. Taking a sip, the boy continued.

"I thought I'd like it 'cause of, you know, Batman," he said, "but I think I'm actually Robin."

"Which one?" Nightscream stared at him. "If I understood you correctly, there were three Robins. Richard Grayson, Jason Todd, and Timothy Drake"

"Yeah," Nightscream agreed, a little dazed. "I just... didn't think you were paying that much attention."

"Of course I was," Silverbolt sounded a little hurt which made the boy feel instantly guilty for doubting him. "It is a fascinating story. So which Robin did you mean?"

Nightscream cocked his head to the side in the manner he did when he was thinking, a gesture he had picked up from Silverbolt himself. "Well... I'd like to say Grayson, 'cause he's obviously the coolest. He gets to be Nightwing later, but I didn't get to those comics yet. But right now I think I'm still Tim."

He looked up at Silverbolt as if he was measuring him up. "You can be Batman, if you want."

The man pretended to consider the offer, then shook his head once. "I think not. Batman is far... darker than I." To their right, Blackarachnia coughed purposefully and audibly, but continued to pretend to be engrossed with the material on her screen. Silverbolt amended. "Darker than I would like to see myself ever."

"Well," Nightscream chewed on his lip for a moment, "you could be Superman, but Superman's boring."

Actually, Superman was okay. Not nearly as cool as Batman, but better than that lame Captain America. It was just that if Nightscream was going to be Robin, he wanted Silverbolt to also be from the Batman world. It was silly, but that's what he wanted.

"Bruce Wayne."

Both Nightscream and Silverbolt looked up in surprise and met Blackarachnia's intense green gaze. She had clearly given up all pretenses of working.

"He's the lighter side of Batman and clearly has a thing for taking in strays," she waved her hand gesturing between the two of them.

Silverbolt tried in vain to hide a laugh behind his hand, while Nightscream's blue orbs grew wide with absolute delight. "You were paying attention, too!"

He opened his mouth to say something else, but Blackarachnia held up her hand to forestall him. "If you call me Catwoman, kid, I will make you get out and walk."


	5. Orphan of War

**Title:** Orphan of War

**Author:** Silver Spider

**Genre:** Humor/General/Some angst

**Characters:** Nightscream, Dinobot

**Warning:** PG, because Dinobot can be scary ^^;;

**Summary:** Dinobot finally asks the question he wanted to in chapter 19.

**Orphan of War**

**By: Silver Spider**

Nightscream had not fully made up his opinion of Autobot City aside from the fact that it was big. Really big. He hadn't seen many Autobot structures aside from the brief visit to Iocon during the Technorganic War, and at the time there was little opportunity for exploration. Now walking through the halls with high walls and wide corridors, he thought of just how amazing it must have been for humans to see the giant Cybertronians for the first time.

It was their first night in the metropolis. Optimus had warned everyone not to do any particularly deep exploration. The city may have been out of commission for three years, but certain parts of it were still operational which meant if one pressed the wrong button or flicked the wrong switch, it could initiate a transformation and crush the unsuspecting Maximal. Nightscream suspected that the warning was mostly meant for him, so of course he ignored it. Somewhat. He did make sure to stay away from any controls he did not understand – which was most of them – but there could not be any harm in just walking around.

Somehow he ended up on the outside of the enormous structure. The door slid closed behind him and a sudden panic griped him as Nightscream realized he had no idea how to get back in. It was the middle of the night and getting cool. The city was located in the Alberta-Tennessee-George tristate area but it was high enough in the mountains that the November weather was felt, especially during the nights. Not that the cold or even possibility of wild animals was was particularly problematic considering his fully capable Technorganic body, but a certain childish fear of the unknown itched at the back of his mind.

i_I really don't want to be out here_/i, Nightscream decided as he began to walk around the perimeter of the city in hopes of finding another way in. The terrain was hardly smooth, and he found himself stumbling several times due to the severe lack of light since many of the city's systems were still off line. The term 'blind as a bat' might not have always been fair, but his less-than-great night vision really was far from great.

However, he did not miss the flash of light that glinted from some kind of blade only a few meters ahead of him. He was ready to run or transform and fly, but curiosity kept him in place and perfectly still. It was Dinobot, he finally recognized. One of the two Cybertronians Optimus had recently sent to Earth. He inched closer after a few minutes of watching the former Predacon move the katana in swift, fluid strokes. An unearthed root caught his foot, and Nightscream stumbled, cracking several dry twigs as he did so.

The motions of the sword stopped, and he froze, holding his breath. He almost thought that the raptor did not spot him in the shadows until Dinobot looked directly at him.

"For a creature of the night, you are remarkable loud," said the former Predacon in his gruff voice. "Stay or go, boy, but make a decision."

Instincts were telling him it was best to go and go quickly, but once again curiosity won.

"You were supposed to return that," Nightscream said matter-of-factly as he emerged from hiding. Dinobot stared at him with an impassive unreadable gaze, and he faltered. "Blackarachnia said so."

"Did she really," the raptor's tone suggested he could not have cared less what Blackarachnia said.

"Yeah," the boy nodded, made slightly braver by the opinion of someone he considered to be higher authority.

Dinobot, who was making an honest effort not to smirk, drove the point of the blade into the soft ground and bent down on one knee resting his hand on the hilt.

"Come here."

Nightscream did not move which caused Dinobot's brows to draw together sharply. He pointed at the ground a foot in front of him, silently insisting that the younger Cybertronian do as he was told. Reluctantly, Nightscream took a few steps forward until he was eye to eye with the raptor who studied him with not a small measure of curiosity that made him feel like an animal at the zoo.

"Interesting," he said simply. "And who's progeny might you be, boy?"

"My name is Nightscream," the adolescent informed him indignantly.

"I did not ask for your name. I asked where you came from."

He gave the former Predacon his best 'stupid adult' look. "From Cybertron. D'uh."

Dinobot's brow twitched. "Do not play coy with me. I meant who are your parents?"

Nightscream opened his mouth to answer but suddenly found that he could not. Theoretically he knew he must have had something akin to parents at some point before the Technorganic War, but whenever he tried to think of the past, everything became too sharp, too overwhelming, too painful. The odd part, he found, was that he did not exactly miss that time. That fact alone disturbed him more than the actual gaps in his memories, though he could not fathom why.

"None of your business," it sounded better than 'I don't remember'.

The raptor growled, not at all pleased with the response. "Are you or are you not the spawn of the fuzor and the she-spider?"

"You mean Silverbolt and Blackarachnia?" Nightscream thought that he must have been kidding, but Dinobot did not look like he was in a mood to repeat the question. i_He's serious..._/i His initial response was to shout something along the lines of 'Primus, no! Are you crazy?!' but all he managed to get out was, "Not explicitly."

"Explain," the raptor demanded.

"I already said it's none of your business."

He should have been scared. He was scared. The former Predacon terrified him more than the aliens they were supposedly fighting. But Dinobot had encroached on a subject Nightscream did not feel comfortable even thinking about, let alone discussing. Things were what they were. He did not like to classify or give names to the roles various members of the team played in his life. It complicated things. Still Dinobot did not look like he was willing to take that as an answer. The boy shifted uncomfortably under the man's scrutinies gaze.

"I don't know, okay? I lost everything to Megatron's virus. I guess they're the closest to any family I might have had. Silverbolt pays more attention to me than anyone else ever did. I know he's not really into all that comic book stuff I babble about, but he cares enough to actually listen. And Blackarachnia's not exactly Miss Sunshine, but she looks out for me. They both do."

Dinobot seemed thoughtful for a long moment.

"Understandable," he finally concluded. "It is not unheard of nor unexpected to form such dependencies during war. I have heard the Technorganic War was particularly brutal, therefore I am hardly surprised to hear this from one so young as yourself. But know that this is foolish. In the long run it will only bring you more pain because in the long run, everyone dies."

He was not surprised when the child hit him. Well, attempted to. The man needed to move only slightly out of the way, and the boy's fist swung a good half an inch away from his jaw. He made no move to catch him as Nightscream stumbled again, this time falling hard on his forearms and scraping the skin to the point of oozing blood. For a moment Dinobot thought the boy may cry, but he just got back onto his feet with determination burning in his cool blue eyes.

"Don't ever gave me that slag!" he hissed. "What in the Pit do you know about loss? You have no idea what the Technorganic War was like, what watching so many bots die was like. Having them as family was the only thing that got me through that slaggin' war, so don't you dare tell me otherwise. Don't tell me you know something about death. All I hear is how great a soldier you were, but if you're so great, how come you went and died on everyone? Was that on purpose? You died first so you wouldn't have to see anyone else go? In that case, I think you're a coward. I've done both, and dying was a lot easier than watching everyone else do it."

He was breathless from anger and from yelling at the former Predacon. He did, however, notice the man's face twist into the most terrifying look he'd ever seen on anyone. Dinobot made no move to transform or fight, but suddenly Nightscream knew with absolute certainty that he was going to die. The raptor looked like he was about to shred him to pieces.

Until he smiled.

A crooked, not at all comforting grin which somehow showed all of his brilliantly white teeth.

"Good," Dinobot nodded approvingly. "I had my doubts, but you are learning to face fear head on. At the very least long enough to defend that which you cherish. We may make a warrior of you yet."

Ignoring the boy's wide-eyed stare of open astonishment, he replaced the katana in his hand and pointed with it to an opening in the closest wall of the fortress-like city that the Nightscream had somehow missed in the darkness.

"Go. Before I decide to discover just how combat read you currently are."

Not needing to be told twice, Nightscream ran back to the city. The raptor may have decided not to kill him now, but he was not about to stick around and wait for him to change his mind. Who knew with that one. But, he thought momentarily as he paused in the doorway and glanced back at the man who had resumed his sword work, maybe the former Predacon was not so bad. Still scary as the Inferno, but not so bad.


	6. By Any Other Name

**Title:** By Any Other Name

**Author:** Silver Spider

**Genre:** Humor/General/Family/little angst

**Characters:** Nightscream, Silverbolt

**Warning:** G, with some spoilers for the 0.001% of the population who have not seen the original Star Wars trilogy and/or have been living in a cave since 1977. Also some spoilers for later parts of Sparks of Salvation, but I'm trying to be vague about that.

**Summary:** Nightscream discovers a few other sources of infinite wisdom aside from comics. Takes place between coming chapters of SoS

**By Any Other Name**

**By: Silver Spider**

"So what's your story, kid?"

Wide blue eyes blinked rapidly at the owner of the feminine though hardly soft voice. He looked her up and down once, noting with a bit of annoyance that the flame haired girl was about an inch taller than himself. The bright green eyes set deep within her freckled face bore into him as if he was a child who had just broken some sort of absolutely obvious cardinal rule. Nightscream put down the CD he'd just picked up.

"Excuse me?"

"What's your story?" she repeated. "Most good little boys are off at school on a Wednesday."

"I'm fifteen," he lied indignantly.

"Maybe in another two or three years."

"Fine. Thirteen," a thought suddenly occurred to him and his brows drew together. "What about you? Shouldn't you be in school?"

"I'm cutting. Duh."

It made absolutely no sense to him how she could be on his case for cutting school he did not even attend and think that it should be obvious to him that she herself was cutting. Girls were confusing. Trying to ignore her, he picked up the CD again trying to make out the tiny print of the song titles on the back. From the corner of his eye he noticed with annoyance that she was still there, though her earlier tough-as-nails expression softened a bit as she must have realized she'd bothered him.

"Sorry," the girl said. "I tend to babble a little. My name's Mary. What's yours?" he didn't respond and after a moment of silence it was her turn to grow annoyed. "Cat got your tongue?"

"What? No."

"Oh, I see," she planted her hands on her hips. "You wanted to say that 'Mary's too nice a name for such an obnoxious girl' but suddenly remember that your mommy taught you to be nice to a lady no matter what."

_That'll be the day._ he was surprised how quickly Blackarachnia's face came to his mind. She would probably find the whole conversation hilarious. "My dad, actually."

"I see. The old-fashioned kind. So what's your name, boy wonder?"

"Nathan," he didn't even know why he bothered to continue talking to this girl, let along give her his name. "Do you usually start random conversations with strange men?"

"Men? No. Boys? Sure, why not?"

She looked like she did not even consider that her words might be insulting, but he'd given up trying to understand this strange girl so he decided not to push the issue. She nodded at the disk he was holding.

"You like that stuff?"

"Hadn't tried it yet."

He did not need more music. Nightscream had managed to stuff his 160GB iPod to almost full capacity and could download more any time he wanted, but being in the music store was as good a place to go to get away as any. The last place he wanted to be right now was Autobot City.

"Is it any good?" he asked to keep up the conversation.

The girl, Mary, took the CD from him and studied the cover. "It's okay," she finally decided, "Not as good as their more recent stuff though. Here. This one's better."

She flipped through the stack of disks by the same band for a moment before finding the one she was looking for. She was about to hand it to him but then pulled back. "Unless you're very religious. You're not, are you?"

"No."

He knew next to nothing about human religions but if Nightscream ever had any inkling of spiritual inclination, they had all been dashed in the recent few weeks.

"Oh, okay then you should like it. It's kind of a mix of progressive metal and some less intense stuff for story effect. Give it a try."

He scanned the bar code on the back of the case at one of the listening stations and put on the headphones. The lyrics that he could not quite decipher kicked in after a long instrumental introduction, and Nightscream found that he quite liked the melodic metal sound. Mary was talking again, but he could not hear a word through the headphones.

"What'd you say?" he asked, pulling them off.

"I asked where you're from," she repeated. "This isn't exactly a large town. Only one high school, and I'm pretty sure I know everyone there."

"I'm from..." he tried to remember where exactly Autobot City was located. "Lookout Mt."

The red head gave him a dubious look. "As in you live in the middle of the wilderness like a nomad or you're just trying to sound cool by saying you live near Autobot City but can't remember any town next to it?"

Well, that was all true, except for the 'trying to sound cool' part. "I do live near Autobot City," he insisted, "and it's not as cool as you'd think."

Actually, he was starting to really truly hate the place. At least when they had been in the North East, in Washington D.C. or even on the Air Force Base near Boston, there had been something to do outside the four walls. There was _nothing_ outside Autobot City. Nothing but the wilderness which, however pretty, got old, and no amount of comics, video games, or unlimited bandwidth made him want to remain within those walls with their current occupants.

Children – apparently even Cybertronian technorgranic ones – were incredibly good at picking up on tension between the adults around them. Nightscream was sick of it. Sick of Cheetor being barely civil to Primal, sick of watching Rattrap – Primus, Rattrap! - trying to play the peacemaker, sick of scurrying to turn a corner when he saw Megatron walking by. Silverbolt and Blackarachnia had a whole different set of issues now, and he did not want to bother them.

As if on cue the front door of the store chimed announcing the arrival of another customer. Nightscream looked up. _Ah, slag._ He was in for it now. Averting his gaze from the entrance, he found himself instead looking directly at Mary's frowning face.

"What's the matter?"

"My dad's here."

"And he's gonna bust you for cutting. Tough break, kid," she glanced over his shoulder and studied Silverbolt's approaching form for a moment. "You know, your dad's kinda hot. If you grow up half that good-looking, I hope we run into each other again. In a few years, anyway."

She winked at him and sauntered off to the back of the store. Nightscream stared after her and only sighed in defeat when Silverbolt's hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"Sneaking from base for a clandestine randevu? I suppose I should approve."

"Sorry," he turned without actually looking up and was surprised to find that he _was_ sorry, if only for the concern he saw on Silverbolt's face.

"Nathan," he said using his human name in the public place, "I do not blame you for desiring to get away, but I wish you told someone where you were going. Or at the very least kept your cellular telephone on so we could reach you."

"I won't do it again," he made a mental note to at least _try_ not to.

"Good," Silverbolt seemed satisfied and his concerned-parent posture lessened. He glanced at the CD Nightscream was still holding. "That looks... interesting."

Nightscream beamed.

"It's 'Paradise Lost' by Symphony X," he said, pointing at the blue-silver cover of a metal angel-like humanoid holding a red rose. "Sounds cool, but I can't really tell what they're singing about."

"May I?"

"Sure."

Silverbolt examined the CD before scanning the bar code and putting on the headset. He listened for a long time, his expression remaining unreadable. A full ten minutes later, after the first song finished playing, he finally took off the headphones.

"It's a myth," he said, "the bases of several human religions."

"Sounds boring," Nightscream commented, wondering why anything so educational-sounding would be in a metal band.

"You may be surprised," Silverbolt smiled, "Perhaps I will tell you the story a bit later. What were you going to do now? It is barely two, so I assume you were not planning to return home quite yet."

Nightscream had to grit his teeth not to yell at him that Autobot City was _not_ home. It would be unfair to take it out on Silverbolt.

"I was going to watch Star Wars. They're having a marathon of all three original movies back to back at the theater down the street."

"Star Wars?" the look on Silverbolt's face told Nightscream that the older man was imagining actual cosmic bodies hurling balls of flame at one another. The image made him laugh.

"It's a classic sci fi series," the boy explained. "I never actually watched it, but there's ads for it in every comic I'd ever flipped through. It's not a big deal or anything. I can always download it later."

"But you wish to see it now," Nightscream nodded, knowing it was useless to try to hide much from Silverbolt as far as he was concerned. The man pulled out his cell phone and began to dial. "Someone at the city should be informed that you will not return till late in the evening."

Overjoyed, an idea suddenly struck the boy. "Come see it with me," Silverbolt rose both brows questioningly, and he faltered. "I mean... never-mind, you're probably busy."

"How long is this... marathon?" the fuzor asked.

"Starts at three and ends at...," Nightscream tried to remember, "nine, I think."

"Six hours," now he was sure he'd say no, but to his surprise, Silverbolt smiled. "I am very curious to see these films that have the potential to keep you occupied for nearly six full hours."

"I think Blackarachnia's sense of humor is rubbing off on you," Nightscream stuck his tongue out in the most childish manner he could manage, but he was overjoyed.

* * * * * * * * * *

Someone should have told Silverbolt that the original Star Wars trilogy was not a good father/son movie or even a good movie for his current mood, but then among the humans of the post-Empire Strikes Back generation, there were some basic facts of life: the sky was blue, the grass was green, and Darth Vader was Luke Skywalker's father. Silverbolt, of course, did not know that.

In hind sight, he reflected, perhaps he should have guessed and at some other point in his life, he would have liked it. Being an enthusiastic reader of human mythology, Silverbolt had quickly seen that the movies followed a definite pattern. Idealistic hero? Check. Beautiful princess? Check. Old wise wizard-like mentor? Check. Epic color-coordinated sword fights? Check. He should have seen the proverbial 'conflict-with-the-father' from a light year away, but somehow he'd missed it.

"We do not have to watch the third film if you are tired," Silverbolt offered.

Nightscream looked like he was actually considering it, but then shook his head. "No, I want to know how they rescue Han Solo."

Not _if_ they rescue him, but simply_how_. Silverbolt smiled, remembering when he used to think the same way. Han Solo was the hero – according to Nightscream _way_ cooler than Luke Skywalker – therefore he would definitely be saved. Sometimes he marveled at how Nightscream had retained any of his youthful innocent outlook after witnessing so much horror.

Like the intermission betweens the first two films, they had twenty minutes before the start of the third. Silverbolt quickly dismissed everything they served at the front of the theater as foul and unfit for consumption, so they wandered around the block until they came upon a descent-looking sandwich shop. As they waited for their order, Nightscream bought the biggest soda he could find and took a long sip.

"Maybe Vader lied," he mused.

"About what?" the older man asked, though he was nearly certain he knew what the boy was referring to.

"About being Luke's dad. Maybe it was just a trick to catch him off-guard."

"I do not believe so," Silverbolt hated to crush his hopes for that bright and happy outcome, but he had read enough mythology to know there was a slim chance of that. "Remember, he could have killed him in their duel but he did not do so."

"But," Nightscream raked his brain, "didn't he say Luke's dad's name was Anakin Skywalker? Earlier in the movie when he was talking to the black hooded guy."

"I believe that was Vader's name before he became... Vader."

He knew what the boy was doing. Nightscream was not stupid. Far from it. It was just the fact that he did not have the luxury of playing the denial game in his own life. Not accepting and thus dealing with situations exactly as they were meant certain death on the battle field, but for a movie that was not quite going the way he'd expected, Nightscream indulged in a little 'what if'.

"Why would he do that? Change his name and refer to himself in third-person, I mean?"

"Because it is simpler to be purely good or purely evil, rather than accepting that we are all a combination of both."

Nightscream stared at him blankly. "I don't understand."

Silverbolt smiled a bit sadly. "It is simpler for him to distinguish between Darth Vader and Anakin Skywalker if he thinks of one as purely evil and the other purely good, as if they were truly two completely different individuals. That way Vader does not feel the guilt of his actions, because true evil has no empathy. He fears that if he still called himself Anakin Skywalker he would be crushed under the weight of that guilt."

"Oh."

The boy's expression grew somber, seemingly wanting to ask something else but holding back. The similarities were not lost on Silverbolt. He had known six Maximals who had descended into darkness. He found it odd that while Blackarachnia and Dinobot were considered the prime examples of turn-coats, they were the only two who managed to retain their identities throughout their respective transitions. Rhinox had lost himself in the depth of Tankor, refusing to assume his former identity even after his memories were unlocked, and Airazor and Tigatron no longer responded to their given names.

Of the six, only he had managed to loose his name and return. He was still uncertain if anyone – save perhaps for his bond-mate – understood the true reason for his guilt. Everyone had reacted the way he had just explained it to Nightscream: Silverbolt was good, Jetstorm was evil, end of story. Oh, but it was so easy to say, "It was Jetstorm who did all those terrible things, not I."

He knew better.

Silverbolt and Jetstorm were one and the same. Different measures of the same personality, yes, but the same nonetheless. He still remembered how thrilling it had felt to have such complete and total freedom. Intoxicating, addictive, and at the same time, deathly frightening. Not unlike the feelings evoked by the song Nightscream shared earlier. He mentally shuttered.

"Luke's going try to fix him," the boy declared.

"He had done a great deal of evil," Silverbolt gave him a dubious look. "Not the least of which was destroying a populated planet."

"Oh, right," Nightscream managed to conveniently forget selective parts of the first film. "Well, I did say _Luke_ was going to try to fix him. It's a good thing Leia's not his kid."

"What if he does not wish to be fixed?"

"I think he does. Why else would he spare Luke and find an excuse to keep him alive when that emperor guy said to kill him?"

"Humm."

Sensing that he was not up for the conversation and maybe the third film, Nightscream asked what had been Silverbolt's question earlier. "Do _you_ want to watch the last one?"

"I..." he started to say something then stopped. "Yes, I would like to finish watching. I apologize if I do not seem myself. These films just reminded me of how much I miss a black and white world."

Nightscream bit his bottom lip. "I don't remember one," he confessed after a moment. "The more time goes by, the less I remember of Cybertron before _him_. Afterwards it was just all black. Until you guys came, anyway. So I know after the whole deal with the jets you're going through a thing and you mostly talk to Blackarachnia, but if you want to, you can talk to me too."

Silverbolt was touched. "It is not your job."

"It's not your job to entertain a whiny kid who drags you to movies you probably don't have the slightest bit of interest in," Nightscream shrugged. "You do it anyway, and it makes me happy. So next time we'll do something that makes you happy."

He knew even before the grin materialized on Silverbolt's face that he'd get stuck in a place with lots and lots of books, but he didn't mind.

_**Author's End Note:**_ This is what happens when my personal set of daddy issues plus an overwhelming urge to rewatch Star Wars kicks in. As for the song, it's been in my head for a long time that Symphony X's song "Set the World on Fire (The Lie of Lies)", the first song from their "Paradise Lost" album, was somehow connected to Silverbolt/Jetstorm because it's a very angry but also very poetic song. Look up the lyrics in Google and the music video on youtube if you're interested.


	7. Flesh & Steel

_**Author's Note:**_ Some of you may not know this, but the whole idea for Lt. Myers, my one and only consistent OC, came from a completely accidental snippet that I once posted in my LJ that apparently sparked everyone's attention. It doesn't even have a title but you can find it here:

silverspidertm2 (dot) livejournal (dot) com (slash) 141291 (dot) html

There's also another full-length one shot involving Megatron and Lt. Myers but as that one has a muuuch higher rating, it's also confined to my LJ for now. It's called "Games of Command" and you can find that here:

silverspidertm2 (dot) livejournal (dot) com (slash) 153828 (dot) html

The one you're about to read, "Flesh and Steel", came from a question that was posed to me by a reviewer who read both of the above fics and asked me if Megatron would save Lt. Myers' life if he could do so with no other consequences. This is my answer. Again, contains some minor spoilers for "Sparks of Salvation". Enjoy and please review!

**Title:** Flesh & Steel  
**Author:** Silver Spider  
**Genre:** Action/Drama/some Angst  
**Characters:** Megatron, Lt. Myers  
**Warning:** light R for gory imagery but no sexual content  
**Summary:** Megatron always did enjoy having the power over life and death.

**Flesh & Steel  
By: Silver Spider**

In some ways, this second trip to Earth was more fun for Megatron than the first. Of course he immensely enjoyed the exercise of the Beast Wars, especially since he could claim victory. But this time, when humanity was slightly more advanced, was just too much fun. The only real downside was this Technorganic body which he both loathed and loved. After all, it did come with certain advantages.

At the moment, however, he was in the 'loath it' mood. Trudging through the sweltering forests of Central America in the summer and actually feeling the humidity and heat on his skin was one of the most unpleasant experiences of his life. He would have given almost anything to be purely technological again and turn on his internal coolers. Sweat was disgusting. Still, he was a soldier, so he did not complain and bore the uncomforted in silence. At least he was not the only one suffering. The small squadron of Marines that was sent with him many of whom carried massive packs of supplies were just as miserable in this heat, but they too were silent about it. Lowly as these humans were, Megatron's militaristic mind had to admire that.

There was another upside to this little outing. The trip to observe the effect of the damage General Barnett's jets had done to yet another alien structure was the longest leash Primal had let him had since they arrived on this planet. Megatron briefly entertained the idea of transforming into his dragon-like form, blowing everyone away, and taking off, but then where would he go? Even if he did somehow miraculously make it back to Cybertron, in this time, he would be a stranger in a strange land.

No.

How much better to remain and have some fun with the aliens, Primal, his Maximals, and of course, the humans?

The human he found most entertaining, First Lieutenant Elizabeth Myers, lead the party a few steps ahead of him with the same determined look she always wore. He was just here as a Cybertronian escort and thus expert on the aliens. Technically these were her men, and she was quite proficient with the position of leadership. He was a little surprised when he figured out that they followed her simply because of the chain of command and admiration for her skill, not for any other... unprofessional reasons.

"Are we sure that thing's dead?" one of the younger soldiers asked the other in a low voice, but loud enough for Megatron to pick up.

"That's what we're here to find out," his teammate replied. "Pretty sure it's dust, though. Those hot shot pilots made a bloody mess out here."

"How did they even hit all those targets simultaneously?" asked another. "Across the whole freakin' planet!"

"They're getting some special help," the second spoke again. "You don't seriously think even our fly boys can coordinate something like this on their own."

Megatron tried not to snort. Clearly the Marines did not think highly of their air-bound brethren. He had heard as much before, and he had a good idea of who _did_ coordinate that strike. How very, very interesting.

"Ensign!" Lt. Myer's voice came from the front. The men froze as she turned her cool gaze on them. "I advise you to shut up and keep your eyes open. There may be live land mines here from previous civil wars. You could be a mess of blood and guts decorating the jungle way before you get to the objective."

_Colorful_, Megatron thought cheerfully and caught up to her as they continued walking. She spared him a single glance before focusing on the trail ahead again.

"What?"

"I admire your leadership tactics," he said. "Not many can effectively rule through fear."

It was a pile of slag. He knew that fear had nothing to do with how she lead her men. Myers was pointing out a reasonable danger, but he liked to goad her. Saying things like that bothered the lieutenant because for a split nanoclick, the thought that she may be at all like him flashed across her mind.

"I don't suppose someone like would know any other way," she replied calmly.

"Someone like me?" Megatron actually looked confused. "As opposed to someone like Primal whose benevolence and clarity has made him such an effective leader."

It was hardly a secret, even among the humans, that the Maximals were having a lot of trouble amongst themselves due to Primal's return. Well, technically it was due to the fact that Primal brought him along, but Megatron had had so little interaction with them that he could _hardly_ be the one to blame. Actually he found the whole thing quite entertaining. It was like watching what the humans would call a soap opera unravel.

Apparently Myers was not nearly as entertained.

"Could you kindly shut up?"

"I'm disappointed, Lieutenant. That's a rather weak comeback. The least you could do is say 'kindly shut up, _sir_'."

She stopped, letting the other Marines who were pointedly avoiding eye contact with both of them, to go forward then turned back to the still smirking Megatron.

"I don't know who you think you are..."

"I think I'm Megatron," he said as if the statement alone should explain everything.

"...but whatever you were on Cybertron, you're not my superior here," she informed him, "but fine. Whatever gets you off. Could you kindly shut up, _sir_?"

The Predacon mouthed the words as if rolling the taste of them on his tongue. "I do believe I like this expression," he said finally. "And you're wrong about one thing, Miss Myers; I may not be your superior officer, but make no mistake that I _am_ your superior in every way."

The glare she gave him said "don't bet on it" in no uncertain terms before she went off to follow her men. The little human probably thought she won that round, but no matter. There would be plenty of time to play after the alien structure was determined inoperable.

But then again, maybe not.

The force of the shock wave from the explosion ahead sent him flying through the air to hit a nearby tree. There was a crack as something fractured. It was probably the tree because when he oriented himself again, aside from the ringing in his ears and the stinging of a few cuts and bruises, he detected no significant damage. He did wish his head would stop throbbing though...

"Report," Megatron groaned, before remembering that there was no one there who would actually reply to such an order from him.

He rose and began to shake pieces of bark and leaves out of his hair but quickly realized it was not bound to do much good. His clothes was splattered with blood and other unmentionable parts that surely belonged to some poor Marine. He just did not know if it was the land mine Myers had warned them about or something from the alien site. With a curse, Megatron went in search of survivors. He may not personally care about the humans, but Primal was sure to make his ears bleed if he was the only one to return alive.

The blast may have been powerful, but it did not have a long range. It did not take him long to find one Marine – a dark-haired man whose name Megatron had never bothered to remember – but to call him a survivor would be overly optimistic. Most of his limbs were barely attached to his torso and that was a mess of blood and exposed internal organs. His eyelids beat rapidly. The only reason the man was still awake was because he was in shock. Megatron knelt by his side.

"Do you have a weapon, soldier?"

He himself was not allowed a firearm. It was ludicrous because in his robot mode, he had more than enough firepower to blow any human guns away in a monoclinic, but that was Primal for you. The dying man looked confused then his eyes darted ti his right hip, and Megatron saw the standard issued gun. He pulled it free of the holster and rose.

A single shot to the head was all it took.

Megatron replaced the weapon behind his back in the waistband of his pants and moved on.

Of the several other bodies he discovered along the way, none required the act of mercy he had shown the first man. Some were in such bad shape that it was hard for him to count just how many casualties there were due to the scattered pieces. If he continued at this rate, he would reach the alien structure alone. But only a few yards away, Megatron came on a small clearing where the surrounding trees were only slightly damaged by the blast.

The young ensign – the one he recalled only because Myers warned him about the mines – stood over the lieutenant's body looking shaken and helpless. It only took a quick glance over the woman's injuries to tell that they were quite extensive. There were cuts and severe burns everywhere, but the worst of it was a massive gash on her torso. Even with the bloody rolled up jacket pressed against the wound, he could see that her left side was badly torn.

She was in bad shape. Almost as bad as the first man he'd found.

Almost, but not quite.

"Is there some reason why you're just standing there?" he glared at the ensign.

The young man must have been scared out of his wits, and ordinarily Megatron might have enjoyed it but he was not in the mood just then.

"S... sir," the human blurted, "our medical equipment... someone else must have had it..."

He did not add that he thought that no first aid kit in the world would have been enough to save Lieutenant Myers now. She was awaken, breathing raggedly through the pain, but even her face showed a sort of acceptance to her fate. _But not fear_, Megatron mused. _This one is not afraid to die_.

"What _do_ you have, then?" he asked the Marine.

"Some tools. To fix electronic gear, if need be. I tried our radio, but it's busted."

"Do you have some kind of soldering instrument?"

"F... for what?"

"Just answer the question!"

"Yes!"

"Give it to me, then see to that radio, if you think you can handle such a task. Preferably out of my sight."

The man looked from Megatron to his commanding officer unsure of what to do. Amazingly, Myers managed a court nod, and he scrambled in his pack and quickly handed the Cybertronian the battery-powered soldering gun. Swinging the rest of the pack over his shoulder, the Marine ran back into the jungle. Apparently he already forgot to be careful of the mines. Megatron half hoped the idiot would not come back alive, but then they would not have a working radio.

Not that it mattered a whole lot to him personally, but... he knelt on the lieutenant's injured side and held up the tool for her to see. Their eyes locked, and Megatron held her gaze as he spoke, making sure she understood every word.

"I am going to see to your wounds now, Lieutenant. Burn them shut."

" 'm...," she tried to speak through the bloody foam that was bubbling around her mouth, " 'm not... not a... machine."

Megatron actually grinned at this. "More's the pity. But it doesn't matter. They are sealed with the scar tissue, there is a chance, however remote, that you will survive with all your internal parts where they belong until a medical helicopter arrives. It will be painful, excruciatingly so. The scars you receive today, you will bare for the rest of your life, and they will be ugly ones."

He was not giving her a choice in the matter, simply stating what was about to happen. Megatron half expected her to beg for the mercy of a quick death – humans were such fragile creatures – but Myers clenched her jaw and gave him the most determined look she could muster.

"I'm a soldier," she managed to speak almost evenly that time.

"That you are," the Predacon agreed. "Let's begin."

* * * * * * * * * *

Night was coming quickly, and still there was no sign of a rescue even though the ensign had returned a few hours ago and told Megatron that he had made contact with the U.S. Military. Soon after that he proceeded to head back into the jungle under the pretense of gathering supplies. Maybe he did not want to see his commanding officer so badly weakend. More likely than not it was because the Predacon terrified him, and he did not want to be anywhere near him. That was fine with Megatron.

He thoroughly loved inspiring fear, especially in humans. It amused him to no end. He liked causing pain, too. Maybe not as much as Tarantulas – it was hard to come close to that – but he was a self-respecting Predacon, after all. And yet the little human woman lying on the ground near the campfire robbed him of the enjoyment of either of those. She did not fear him in spite of knowing precisely who he was, albeit through word of mouth only. And today, when the pain became too intense, she did not scream, merely passed out.

Now, sitting by the flickering campfire next to her unconscious form, Megatron was troubled to admit even to himself that he did not enjoy causing her pain. Oh, he had no problem doing what had to be done. As she herself said, she was a soldier. She understood what needed to be done for the sake of survival, but he took no pleasure in the act itself. That bothered him, because he reasoned that he should have. Myers had awoken several times since then, but even then she mostly swam in delirium, no doubt brought on buy the pain. Once she muttered a few strings of words Megatron managed decipher. Something about her grandfather and a war. The second one, if he recalled correctly, though he had little idea of what that meant. Megatron had never bothered to study human history too closely.

This time, however, when her eyes opened, there was a lucidity there he had not seen earlier. Megatron straightened and gave her an even look.

"Well, Lieutenant?" it was as close as he was going to come to asking how she felt.

Myers must have understood that. She groaned and tried to shift to a more comfortable position before wincing and realizing that there was no such thing. "I'll live."

"Perhaps," he shrugged.

"My men..."

"Are dead. For the most part."

There was a sharp intake of breath, and he knew the pained look on her face was not from the physical injuries she sustained.

"Pawns," he said flatly.

"_My_ men!" she objected with more force than he'd seen from her in hours. "Soldiers who were counting on me to keep them alive."

Megatron was both puzzled and annoyed by this. If she worked herself up and made her injuries worse, all his work to keep her alive – and thus Primal out of his circuits when he returned – would be for nothing. He found himself wondering what to say to pacify the woman again and was slightly surprised when it was Dinobot who came to mind.

"They were soldiers," he agreed. "Soldiers who did their job."

She said nothing. He was also silent for a long moment then moved forward and lifted the jacket that by now was a deep burgundy color and crusted with her dried blood to check on her injuries. It was bad. Even cauterized the wound was beginning to split open again. He glanced at her face only to see her looking back. Despite being well adapt to keeping his expression neutral, he could tell she knew just by looking at him that it was bad. Megatron covered it again.

"What was the second war?"

"What?" Myers frowned in confusion.

"The second war. You said your grandfather fought in the second war. What did you mean?"

"How do you _not_ know these things?" she looked appalled.

"Do you know about every Cybertronian war?" he challenged. "Then why would you assume I should know or care about human ones?"

"Why are you asking if you don't care?"

"Merely making small talk."

"I'm very tired, Megatron," she sighed and closed her eyes, "and World War II isn't exactly small talk material."

"A world war?" his eyes sparkled with genuine interest. "Who was it fought by? Who won?"

"We did."

"You're going to have to be more specific, Lieutenant. All you humans are alike."

Her eyes opened, and she gave him a disgusted look. "Are all Cybertronians the same?" she countered.

Megatron paused. "Yes, we are." Myers raised a brow. "I suppose it depends how specific you want to be. There is no fundamental difference in our sparks, so from that perspective, yes, we _are_ all the same, loath as I am to admit it."

"Huh," she seemed to relax again. "Maybe we're not so different after all."

"I'm not the one lying here bleeding, Lieutenant."

"I didn't mean physically."

"I know very well what you meant. Differences in sparks or lack there off does not change the fact that our factions divided long ago. I sought to change that, and for that they call me a monster."

"You committed genocide," she took a great deal of satisfaction from the surprise that flashed across his handsome features. It was a rare thing to catch the Predacon unawares. "I've spent the last few weeks escorting your 'friends' around and I know how to listen."

"To one side of the story," Megatron glowered. Not that her opinion mattered, but he silently cursed the Maximals and their big mouths.

"There's no other side to genocide," she stated with utter conviction.

"Even if it means the end of constant war?" he challenged. "You're so very certain in your beliefs, but you don't understand Cybertronians. The destruction of the body is not the end of life for our kind. Only the survival of ones' spark matters."

He was perfectly aware that nothing he said would make a difference. He was the bad guy in this story. Megatron knew and preferred it that way. But for one instance he made her think twice about that fact. Now _that_ was fun: mind games. Playing at hero was boring and did not suit him in the least.

Just then the steadily increasing hum of an approaching helicopter made them both look up. There was no place to land in the thick foliage so it hovered above while two medics were dropped to the ground through cables. They quickly assessed the situation and moved Myers onto the suspended stretcher that had accompanied them down.

"Your ensign told us where we might find you," one of the medics told her over the roar of the propeller. "You're going to be just fine, Lieutenant. Maybe a little more careful of mines next time."

He was only a few feet away, but even with his superior hearing Megatron had trouble making out what they were saying. The last thing he thought he heard before she was hoisted up to the chopper was, "It wasn't a mine."


End file.
